


Rapture

by soulgusttheguardian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vamp!lock, except john is the vampire cos i never see those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgusttheguardian/pseuds/soulgusttheguardian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock might have noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rapture

Sherlock might have noticed.

He could have seen the way John grew more pale over the last month.

Could have seen the way sometimes John would make efforts to hide his mouth.

Could have noticed the way he snuck out during meals, and accepted a lot more packages as well.

Of course he would have. 

This was Sherlock Holmes.

But of course he wouldn't have thought anything out of the ordinary, if not for the bite mark imprinted on John's neck.

Which Sherlock probably would have noticed. 

If he suddenly wasn't so interested in other things.

Namely, in John himself.

Or rather the protective nature he felt towards his flatmate, ever since their run in with Moriarty at the pool. 

John didn't want to bring it up, but Sherlock had all but locked him in the apartment after that. He refused to let John leave the house and when he did he insisted he go with him.

The ex soldier tried not to think about it- he knew his friend was just worried. But somewhere he hoped it could mean more.

When Sherlock snuck away for a bathroom trip or to get something else from a waiter; John took his own leave. 

He didn't want Sherlock to find out. 

But some things were inevitable. 

And when John and Sherlock met eyes; across the distance of the back alley, he froze. Both of them did. Sherlock's eerie blue eyes wide and John hoping he hadn't noticed his fangs yet. But the blaring confusion in his friend's eyes stated clearly that he had.

"John-" 

"Please don't freak out-" John murmured, tense. He stood slowly and held out his hands as if trying to calm down the Consulting Detective. He stepped closer one by one, unsure. "Sherlock, listen, it isn't what it looks like." 

"Really?" Sherlock's voice was flat. Much like when he was deducing facts on a boring crime scene. There was a tiny, tiny shred of interest. "Because it looks like you're about to drink blood from the blood bag you brought home "for work."" He adjusted his weight back onto his left foot and narrowed his unreal blue eyes. 

John glanced at the clear, plastic bag in his hand. "Ah- yes. Well, I need the.. The fluid." 

Sherlock cleared his throat and it echoed across the damp alley air.

"I can see that."

He forced his flatmate back home without another word. 

And in the silence of the cab John had to fight the urge for the now hidden blood bag. 

Rather, that's what he was trying to tell himself his urges were towards. That the reason his fangs had protruded from his gums was not because of the warm, living, nice smelling human body next to him.

At Baker Street, John jumped from the car and bolted inside without hesitating. 

Sherlock followed on light steps- bounding up the flight into their flat before slamming the door shut. John had disappeared into the bedroom down the hall, muttering something under his breath, and the two of them didn't speak for quite awhile. When Sherlock finally came to seek John out, the vampire was sprawled out on his bed murmuring to himself. The taller man leaned on the frame of the door and raised one eyebrow. "One would think you are going crazy, John."

The brunette snorted and folded his arms over his chest. "Yes, well, I might be."

"Why?" 

John narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why? I don't know. Perhaps because no one is supossed to find out about this-" he waved a hand at his face. "-And now someone has. Someone who is my flatmate!"

"At least I'm not one of those who would want to study you." Sherlock replied. John raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. "Alright I'm curious."

"See?"

"John I'm not going to dissect you or experiment on you."

"Yeah you will."

"I did before, when you were 'human'."

John couldn't argue with that, honestly. But that didn't make him feel any better about he situation. Sherlock made a small noise that he took to mean he was confused and unsure what to do, but the tall man flopped down next to him anyway and looked at him curiously. "John this won't change anything. And no one else will find out."

"I know that," John muttered. "I just- well, it's kind of..weird. Kind of gross, wouldn't you say?"

"On the contrary I've always wondered what blood tasted like." 

John laughed and hung his head, feeling Sherlock's own grin radiating off him. "Yes. Well. I can't exactly control myself around living humans all the time. What if I try and drink from you?"

"I imagine I would taste better than a frozen bag from the hospital.." Sherlock retorted. "If you need it then I would do what I can to help." 

The smaller man glanced up at him with a face mixed of pain and want and reluctance. "Really?" Sherlock nodded. John blinked slowly in response. The detective reached back and began undoing his jacket, letting it fall to the bed behind him before turning to his sleeves and unbuttoning them. John bit the inside of his lip to resist the pulsing urge he felt upon seeing the man's veins bared and flexing under his skin. He was so enraptured that he didn't notice when his friend slid closer and held up his wrist to his face; only knew that his senses were going crazy and his fangs were piercing his lip while he shook in effort to control his desires. One of his fists unclenched, and he delicately traced the blue vein just underneath Sherlock's wrist skin. He swallowed. Beside him he could feel Sherlock breathing slowly- deliberately in order to calm himself, and the short vampire sucked in air as he grazed his lips over the tendons sticking up. His nerves had gone on overdrive as the tip of his fang touched skin, the coolness of the detective never failing to comfort him. 

"Sherlock.." He breathed. "Smell so good.."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile a little; as John gave in to his vampiric lusts he began acting much less coherent and the dark haired man was finding it rather endearing. "John, it's okay if you need to.."

John's eyes flickered open and to his companion out of the corner of his eye; nervousness flashing over his features in the dark room. Suddenly Sherlock was overtaken with the curiosity he knew would come- how did John survive in the light? How long had he been a vampire? When were his urges strongest and how often did he have to drink? Did he like human blood?- but he pushed them aside and pressed his wrist to John's lips instead. "John."

"Sherlock." The sensation of fangs and lips on his skin was unreal. "Sherlock." He shuddered. Was it true vampires used words to relax people before drinking from them? Sherlock certainly felt relaxed. He weakly leaned back onto one hand; suddenly panting shallowly. John spared him a glance before licking his tongue out along a patch of skin right above his vein. Vampire spit was supossed to be healing and numbing. He couldn't feel his hand anymore, that was for sure. Or really much of his body except-

A sharp breath left him when finally John's fangs pierced him and he screwed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths to slow his heartbeat. John was sucking eagerly now- a small smile on his face; pleasure etched in the way his eyebrows were raised and the blush on his cheekbones. He made a soft whining noise that Sherlock wished he hadn't heard. "John-" his vision was swimming and he fell over rather limply so his head was resting on John's back. He sighed breathlessly into the small man's shoulder blades.

The vampire withdrew quickly and the next thing Sherlock was aware of was his friend crouched beside him, hand on his face as the other licked the bite marks once again. His stomach turned at the feeling as he became more aware of what was going on and his vision became less spotty. 

"Sherlock-" John sighed, relief appearing on his eyes. "You're okay. I'm sorry. I got- I shouldn't have taken so much-"

"I feel fine." Sherlock interrupted. "Just a little.." His eyes flickered and John followed his gaze. When he realized what his company meant he flushed again. "Are vampires incubi too?"

"Something like that." John murmured. "Our saliva is meant to coax the person into a aroused state so they won't feel so much pain-" he broke off awkwardly. "Of course.. It works better if we are attracted to each other..."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "What... Are you saying that you-" 

John shushed him. "I didn't want to tell you this way."

The detective pondered the comment silently; watching the fear and shame fight on John's face and he sighed. "John, you.. I didn't know. I thought it was just me."

The small man's eyes opened wide and he stooped down to be closer to his flatmate. "Really? It isn't just the desire talking? Because we do that to people-"

John didn't get another word in. Sherlock forced his limbs to listen and drug the vampire down by his hair; lips crashing together and crushing the air from each other. They both gasped in response, and Sherlock tipped his head so he could pry open the lips against his and touched the fangs with his tongue. The shudder that went down John's body made him smirk and he did it again: slower and with more prose. This time John moaned, pressing down against Sherlock eagerly. His fingers played with the mess of black hair as he slowly worked off the scarf around his neck and tossed it aside. He made a move to kiss the pale column revealed to him but was stopped when his partner gripped him by the hips and shifted him up so his mouth was level with his instead. John's skin was flushed and sweaty and tasted so sweet that Sherlock groaned against him. His fingers tightened on the vampire's body; digging into his thighs and unable to ignore the way their bodies slid together even though they were both fully clothed. 

John pressed kisses to the top of his head to muffle his moans and soft cries for more, only encouraging his friend instead. He wanted to hear those sounds- unbared and not held back- wanted to see John lose himself for once, wearing that expression he had while drinking from Sherlock's wrist. He had every intention of doing just that.

The rest of the night went by a blur- John was sure they must have both been high off his vampire hormones as they rolled around together and whispered their promises of affection. And when he woke up, covered in a cold sweat and Sherlock's scarf, he couldn't do anything but smile blissfully even though his body ached like hell and read the note upon the pillow. He sighed and resigned to waiting for his lover to return from the store, instead of the other way around.


End file.
